It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader
[Chapter Pre-27] || [Chapter 28]
Pairing: Price x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader
Words: 1.2K
cw: none
Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?
a/n: Just a cute little moment + us clowning on all the lads bc ofc
Chapter 27: Peace and Quiet.
When you asked John to take you away, him taking you on a whole boat was not what you had in mind.
Granted, he did take you to his home in Credenhill beforehand; a cosy two-bedroom row home, which was surprisingly well-furnished for a single man in his 40s.
After having dinner on Friday night with him (John is a surprisingly good cook!) and cuddling together on the sofa before ending the night in bed, late on Saturday morning he awoke you with brunch in bed.
You half expected a lazy Saturday... only for him to tell you that you were going on an adventure.
So you ended up down south, on river Severn, on a boat. No, not a goddamn rickety fishing boat; a bloody yacht. A small one, but one nonetheless.
That didn't stop him from wearing a fishing hat. Come to think of it, you very rarely see John without a hat, only indoors. But last night when he went to get you, he was wearing a toque... He wears those a lot.
Apparently, John is an avid fan of boating. And bought one a few years back.
"Was this just an attempt at showing off?" You teased him as you stood by his side, one of his arms wrapped around your hip as the boat cruised out to the mouth of the river.
"No, da'lin', would never dream of it." John replied with a cheeky grin.
"I feel like you're lying to me." You replied as you leaned against him, eyes locked on the beautiful view of the cityscapes as you sailed out to the sea.
"Not lying, just... embellishing the truth." He joked and nuzzled up to you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck as he pulled you to sit on his lap at the command of the boat.
"Right..." You said sarcastically, feigning annoyance, before melting at the feel of his kisses, his nose nuzzling into your hair, his beard tickling your nape.
"Plus, maybe, perhaps, I was worried the lads were going to try and crash out little getaway..." He whispered as he kept dropping little kisses onto you.
"Yeah?" You asked as you looked up and back at him.
"They know where I live... Simon does, at least. And I doubt he'd show up, but... he likes you a whole lot." John murmured and then started peppering kisses to your neck.
Shivering a bit, you chuckled. "And you don't share, do you?" You joked.
"Oh, I share. But you asked me to take you away, not to bring 'em with." He quipped with a smirk on his lips.
"Haven't seen you share yet, so my point still stands." You retorted as you narrowed your eyes playfully at him.
"Oh, is that how it is? You're a 'need to see it to believe it', type of person?" He joked and rubbed his lips against the shell of your ear.
"Mhm..." You replied as your eyes closed, leaning back into him, feeling his displays of affection.
Your hands found his extended forearms as his hands controlled the boat on either side of you. You caressed his strong, hairy forearms, a weak attempt at returning the affection.
"How about you go sit out there... Feel the sea air, the water splashing on you..." He offered. "Lay out in the sun, get a bit of a tan?"
"John, we're off the coast in Wales. There's not going to be a tan." You told him playfully.
"Humour me, will you?" He asked you and shook his head, amused.
Nodding, you got up off his lap, kissing him on the lips one last time before you slipped into the cabin to get changed into a swimsuit and then back out.
You sat outside, where John could see you from the cockpit, and took his advice to heart, lounging on the foam chairs at the bow, enjoying the cool water splashing and the sun in the horizon. It was actually enjoyable.
You sneaked a glance at John as he drove the boat, smiling at him, before you decided to put on some sunscreen, just in case. John watched you closely and made a point of showing you how much he enjoyed the sight of you putting it on. At one point he even wolf whistled at you.
After a while, John slowed the boat down and moored it. You didn't think much of it, though the area you were in was beautiful. Nothing but the two of you for miles, the ocean rocking the boat nicely and the sun shining ahead.
John comes to join you, in his own swimming trunks, pulling you close, and peppering kisses all over your back, shoulders, nape... You find yourself giggling. There was something about John... Perhaps the fact he was older, but his attention felt so... nice.
"Is this what you wanted?" He asked. "Some good ol' peace and quiet?"
"Mhm..." You replied as you rolled over to face him. Then, you burst out laughing.
How were you supposed to not? The man had haphazardly lathered himself in sunscreen and was still wearing the bloody fishing hat!
"John, I can't-" You joked.
"What?" He asked in confusion, eyebrows raised.
"You look like a dad on vacation!" You joked and resumed your fit of giggles.
"You calling me old?" He asked in an exaggerated tone.
"No!" You said as you pushed yourself up onto your knees, running your hands over his face to spread the sunscreen more evenly. "You just..." You trailed off.
"I'll have ya know I'm still in my prime." He murmured, his thick beard covering his mouth with each word he spoke.
"You're also a dork." You retorted, feeling his hands slide up your thighs as he pulled you onto his lap.
"Oh? Would a dork have a pretty thing like you in a swimsuit in his arms while on his own boat?" He retorted before leaning close and peppering a kiss on your lips.
"I guess not." You replied playfully. "But the hat certainly doesn't help." You added and slipped it off his head. "See? So much better..."
"I happen to like my boonie hat." He told you as he kept peppering kisses on your face. "I wear it all the time when I'm in the field."
"No way?" You asked dramatically. "You mean you wear this when you're out there with your rifles and what not?" You asked as you lifted the hat off the seat next to you.
"Yes?" He told you, causing you to break into laughter again. "What? It's not that bad, is it?" He asked, feigning insecurity.
"No, it's just-" You trailed off. "First, Simon with his skull mask, then you with your boonie hat... What's next?" You asked.
"Kyle wears a baseball cap with the British flag more often than not." John replied, causing you to shriek with laughter.
"NO?!" You replied, incredulously. "No way?! He dresses so nicely out of uniform, you're telling me he also does the 'one hat' thing?"
"Absolutely he does. Have to ask him to take it off sometimes. It's like it's glued to 'im." He joked as his hands caress your body lovingly.
"What about Johnny?" You asked with narrowed eyes.
"Doesn't wear anything. Just that stupid bloody mohawk." He replied.
"Is it because of his big head?" You joked, which caused you both to break into laughter this time.
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Post-MW3 but Laswell had only faked Soap's death, all under the guise of it being the better thing to do.
Let Makarov believe he had actually killed one of the 141. He'd walk away from that thinking he had a small victory and wouldn't feel pressured to make his next move soon. Laswell wanted him to go into hiding, wanted the team to take the time to figure some things out.
She obviously hadn't anticipated the loose cannon of Captain Price, and him killing Shepherd threw a wrench in everything.
A few months have gone by, and Laswell gets a hit on some activity from Konni group. She tells the team they'll meet her informant there.
Obviously, there's a bit of a big blowout when they realize John 'Soap' MacTavish is the informant. Ghost takes it the worst of all of them, but he doesn't outwardly react. Not in front of Soap. But when they're alone with Laswell to ask her "what the fuck?" Ghost lets it all out.
He's cussing up a storm, saying it was all bullshit, that they should have been in on it.
"Who in this room knows what it's like to be dead better than anyone else? Bloody hell where the fuck do you think "Ghost" comes from?"
And Ghost doesn't ever talk directly to Soap or Laswell the rest of the time they're working on their latest Intel. It's upsetting to everyone, especially Gaz cause he isn't quite sure what the fuck has happened to his team. But Soap seems to be handling Ghost's cold shoulder pretty well, so Gaz keeps his distress to himself.
Finally, Ghost gets a moment alone with Soap. And Soap starts to leave, starts to give Ghost privacy because that's what Soap thinks he needs: some time and space to figure it all out in his head.
But Ghost stops him.
And the mask comes off, and Ghost slips away to reveal Simon. Simon who looks so small despite still standing over Soap.
And Soap is sorry, he's so sorry, Simon.
And he's begging for forgiveness and Simon has yet to say a word. So Soap falls quiet, lets the silence eat away at him as Simon stands there, jaw working as he thinks of something to say.
"I had lost you, Johnny."
It's such a quiet whisper, and it's so broken and it just stabs Soap through the heart. But he doesn't say anything back.
Instead he reaches for his Simon, reaches up to try and hold his head in his hands once again.
And Simon leans into the touch, allows himself a moment of softness during all this war. Allows this tender moment as he lets Soap hold him gently.
And it doesn't last long, doesn't need to. They're back with each other, in each other's hands, safe and breathing. That's all Ghost, all Simon, had ever begged for.
"The next time you die, I'm fucking going with you, you understand?"
"Of course, LT. You and me, aye?"
"Always."
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